


No Fools, No Fun

by Gemenied



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: Challenge Response, Crack, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 15:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemenied/pseuds/Gemenied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FB challenge result! The requirements were: retirement, a B/G-wedding, riding off into the sunset, on a Harley...and daftness! Oh, and the term 'Easy Rider'. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Fools, No Fun

**Author's Note:**

> Note: So, this story is my version of the sort of FB-challenge between CatS81, ShadowSamurai83 and myself. The requirements are: retirement, a wedding (B/G), riding off into the sunset, on a Harley...and no real sense in at all! Oh, and the term 'Easy Rider' somewhere in the story! I think I covered them all. The title comes from a Norah Jones-song.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but if the Beeb is willing to present me - something like this would be possible.

** No Fools, No Fun, Bull Rider, hey-hey **

She should have known something was afoot, should have known that the growing collaboration of Eve and Frankie and Spencer was a bad sign. And if not that, the whispered and broken-off conversations and their inane grins should have warned her. She was an intelligent woman with very healthy instincts - she should have known.

The worst was that she couldn't even blame it on somebody or something. It was all her doing - or lack thereof.

Of course, it could always be said that the shock had done her in. More than ten years, filled with a staggering number of manic rows, times of callous ignorance and brash dismissal...the _probably_ biggest bastard on these islands. And then he went and got himself - and her - retired, and, on top of it all, proposed marriage.

Yes, it definitely had been the shock. It wasn't explicable otherwise.

Alright, alright, the sex was great. Of course, it was - look at the man. Seriously.

And he could be very sweet and very gentle, even understanding. And he was loyal to a fault. And supportive, if need be. And even if it didn't look like it, he listened. Often.

At times.

Okay, sometimes.

He was still the biggest bastard on these islands, but she happened to love this bastard...and...well.... And so she had said yes.

Which logically led to...this.

On the other hand, maybe she had died of shock at his proposal and all of this wasn't real?

* * *

It had been an evening just like many others, all of them working late - really, what else was new? - and then retiring to the Italian down the road. Ever since her return to active duty and Spencer's to the team, it had become a common thing for them - sit down together, have some food and a bottle of wine. It strengthened the 'family' ties and worried the hell out of the Big Whigs in the Met. If rumours were to be believed, people in the upper offices honestly thought they'd go rogue at some point, like some sort of Mafia-get up. If it weren't so spectacularly stupid, Grace would laugh at it.

But we're digressing and that we can't have, right? You all want to know what 'this' is, after all.

The difference that night had been Sarah joining them for the first time. It was awkward at first, like an exchange student sitting down with the host family for the first time. Sarah acted even more woodenly, which they now knew was barely controlled emotions, which stilted conversation at first. As it began to flow, though...it occurred to Grace that, in comparison, maybe Sarah was the only sane one at the table?

In any case, it had been nice to have the evening and she was sure that it marked a big step in Sarah's conversion to the 'family ways'.

Naturally, Grace had been right.

She usually is.

Boyd just shouts louder.

This evening had also been the first regular one after what they now termed the "Murray-disaster" and they were all still a little raw from it. Maybe that was the reason for Sarah to join them. It definitely was the reason for her, Grace, not being allowed to be alone for any extended amount of time. It was becoming a little trying, but Grace didn't complain. Being on the receiving end of Boyd's solicitousness - amongst other things, of course - was a nice touch.

A very nice touch.

And so they sat down, and there was food on the table and wine in the glasses and Boyd's arm on the back of her chair, from where his thumb was rubbing her back. Grace wasn't above the odd...game...so she made sure she leaned back a lot.

As the evening wore on they drifted ever closer together, so that in the end, she was leaning against his chest and their free hands entwined. The 'kids' wisely kept their mouths shut, but their speculative grins became wider and wider. Especially Eve had something in her expression that Grace chose to ignore. Where Eve Lockhart was concerned, ignorance equalled survival strategy.

It was also easy enough since all the little things Boyd did with his body was driving her to distraction. She just hoped he planned on making good on this promise, because if not...well, a very unhappy profiler would ensue and you do know what they say about women scorned...

They'd never made anything official, but as they were walking back to the car park, in the rain and with her feet slowly getting wet, he turned around, took her hand and proposed.

And it was still possible that she had died from shock that second and all of this wasn't real.

* * *

Grace had barely recovered from the surprise, sort of, and they were in the middle of bickering about the minutiae of his move, or hers - her house was bigger and the north of town as good a place as any, he was just opposed on principle - when Boyd had sprung the next thing onto her.

And this time, she did faint.

* * *

The retirement papers had become valid a few days ago, the retirement bonus sitting nicely in the bank and... Detective Chief Superintendent Peter Boyd, newly retired, had yet to drive his wife - good God, how that sounded - mad.

She didn't think the moment was far off.

"You must be joking," she stammered, one hand feebly pointing at the object in front of her. Spencer was leaning against it, holding the paraphernalia. On the sidelines, Frankie was almost literally falling over with laughter, Sarah grinning madly, and Eve barely able to hold the camera straight. If one picture of this moment became public, Grace swore, just one of them...!

The only thing even remotely real was Boyd's presence behind her, gently squeezing her shoulders.

"Tell me this is a joke," she stammered again.

"Just following your wishes, Mrs. Boyd." Boy, did that one sound good. "You specifically requested that we 'ride' off into the sunset together. Though that 'ride'..." Without having to look at him, Grace knew he was smirking. Huffing lightly she turned her head and...he was bloody smirking!

"When I said that, I didn't..."

"But we have a real sunset and in this country, how big are the chances for that to happen?"

"Boyd!" Grace exclaimed. "This is insane!"

"No, just following my wife's wishes."

"It's daft!"

"It's what you wanted!"

"I didn't mean for it to happen literally!"

The conversation was quickly deteriorating into the redundant bickering they had down to a fine art. The result was still the same, and somehow Grace Foley, newly Mrs. Peter Boyd, knew without the shadow of a doubt that she shouldn't have given her future husband and their 'kids' free reign over the wedding plans.

No matter that her book's due date had been last Monday. No matter that there was paperwork to do for their final case. No matter all the details of their move.

She should not have left the planning in Peter's hands. Should have intervened when she found Frankie and Eve snorting upon seeing her. No, even earlier, when she found Spencer and Peter huddling in front of a computer, but quickly closing the windows on screen once she approached.

It had all pointed to trouble and Grace had done enough detective work to know that when something looked like a duck, moved like a duck and quacked like a duck - it almost certainly was...a duck.

However, it was all due to that faintness and the many shocks - this probably not being the last - and the sex and the sweetness of her very own husband, which he'd deny, naturally. So, she hadn't checked, she had trusted him, them...and what was that about mistakes that come back to haunt you?

"We can't use that thing!" she tried again. "You'll get us killed driving that and I don't want to be a widow yet."

"I have advanced driver's training, you know?" At once amused and annoyed, he closed the distance between them, and wrapped his arms around her middle. That also came with the advantage that he could look down her cleavage. As her husband, he not only felt allowed, but practically required to ogle her whenever he got the chance.

"Over 30 years ago, Peter! _'Newly retired policeman dies in daft accident, speeding from his own wedding'_ is not the headline I want to see for today!"

"How about: 'speeds to fireworks with wild thing of a new wife?" His voice had dropped a few registers, his breath rushing hotly against her ear while he - in blatant ignorance of their audience - ground himself against her. Grace shivered, her mind filling with delicious images. "Where's your sense of adventure, Grace?"

Boyd pulled back with a teasing smile, but didn't separate their bodies completely. For obvious reasons. Challenges were something Grace never resisted - one of the reasons why they worked like a charm.

When they weren't arguing.

And right now...

Pushing away from him, Grace marched over to Spencer, picking up her share of the necessary gear. Turning around, she gave Boyd a look that was promise and challenge at the same time. "Three things," she announced.

"First: If this outfit is ruined, you'll take me clothes-shopping for the rest of your life. On your money!"

Boyd groaned inwardly. The money was less of a threat then to have to actually go along. He hated shopping. Hated it!

"Second,..." Naturally, Grace wasn't done yet. "If you get yourself killed with that thing,..." She pointed to the Harley gleaming in the evening sun. "...I'll dig you up and kill you again myself!"

No idle threat either.

"And third,..." Grace gently pulled the second helmet from Spencer's grasp and slowly, very slowly, and very...carefully...walked back over to Boyd, who couldn't suppress the convulsive swallow. From the sidelines, Eve and Frankie were holding onto each other to not fall over laughing.

Suddenly, Grace was before him, her body flush against his, and Boyd swallowed again, as she tilted her head and whispered in the low, raspy huskiness of hers that drove him mad, "Third, I hold you to that 'wild thing'. Can you deliver, Easy Rider?"


End file.
